Sunday

in the day of old







In the day s of old. Renew the fraternity. The band of brothers humming. Not so the meat and fork, the knives sharpened to cut and kill. the ghosts hammer at the door bound for their place on earth.Liminals from the sky riding in on moonbeams . Keeping their terraced smile.




She bears earths on her heart. Her strings pull over gold folding cardboard folding paper. Wished by the hope of a thousand love. Next week they mark time for reentry __ telemetric mode. Not a buddhist fatalist fantasm but the real of the electromagnetic world.



Jill moving into assemblages finding her folly ridden hope the

glitter of clear its road. Opening its presaged vessel the body of her smile ~ .